


history involved itself

by tocourtdisaster



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-27
Updated: 2009-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-05 08:09:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tocourtdisaster/pseuds/tocourtdisaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five people. One month. Everything will change. October 1981. Very slightly AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	history involved itself

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Theme 016 (Ficmix) at the [fanmix](http://community.livejournal.com/fanmix/) community at Livejournal. Information about lunar phases is from [this lunar calendar](http://kalender-365.de/lunar-calendar.php?yy=1981). James's dialogue in section seven is taken directly from the US edition of PoA.
> 
> Title from "Concerning the UFO Sighting Near Highland, Illinois" by Sufjan Stevens.

**a rush of blood to the head**   
_some'll laugh and some just sit and cry_   
_but you just sit down there and you wonder why_   
_so i'm gonna buy a gun and start a war_   
_..._   
_blame it upon a rush of blood to the head_

_  
_Peter knows he's not as dim as people tend to think he is. Sure, he's not as bright as Remus and Sirius and James (or even Evans and Snape, for that matter), but he knows enough to get by. He's an ace at Runes and Arithmancy and he knows that Remus would have failed both if Peter hadn't tutored him all the way through NEWTs, not that anyone ever acknowledges this.

Peter knows they're losing the war, despite the fact that no one tells him much of anything these days. It's hard not to know it when the paper is filled daily with deaths and disappearances and the institution of policies meant to "curb the disorderly conduct leading to such occurrences." He knows that just being friends with members of the Order of the Phoenix makes him a target, but he's actually a member, though sorely under-appreciated, and some days, it feels like he's got a giant target painted on his back. He spends months just waiting for the attack.

He's drunk when the Death Eaters burst through the door of his flat, trying to forget his father's face when he found him last week, face up in his living room, obviously tortured before being killed. At first, he thinks it's some sort of sick prank of Sirius's, busting down the door to scare the piss out of Peter, and he only realizes it's not when the Unforgiveables start to fly.

He _does_ piss himself when he's hit with the Cruciatus, though he doesn't notice until later. All he notices when the curse is lifted is that he's fallen from his chair and that he really should cast a Scourgify underneath the couch sometime soon, unless he wants to live with an army of dust bunnies. He's fairly certain that he should be terrified, but he's not and he has to wonder if he's gone mad from the torture, but that takes hours of unrelenting Cruciatus, doesn't it, not just a few minutes?

A pair of shiny black boots step into his line of vision and Peter's almost certain that he could see himself in them if he squints just right. He forces himself to look up at the man before him.

"Hallo there, Petey."

"Evan?"

The man Vanishes his mask (_a really useful spell, Vanishment,_ Peter thinks) and Peter sees that it really is Evan Rosier. They were partnered in Potions for all of fifth year, before Peter dropped it. He'd heard that Evan had ended up partnered with Snape and had ended up second only to Snape when NEWTs rolled around.

"Got a proposition for you, little Petey," Evan says with a smile, crouching to bring himself more on level with Peter, who's still on the floor.

"What's that?" Peter asks, though he's pretty certain he already knows. There's not much Death Eaters ask for and even less they're willing to give in return.

"You tell me what I want to know about Dumbledore's little group of 'freedom fighters,'" (here Evan's voice takes on a mocking quality that Peter knows well, having heard it from Sirius's mouth for ten years now) "and I'll make sure your death is as quick and painless as we can make it."

And because Peter's not as stupid as people think he is, he says, "I can get you more information if you let me live."

"Let's see if you've got any useful information first, and then we'll make a decision on the other," Evan says lightly, as if they're discussing Quidditch scores or the weather.

A week later, Benjy Fenwick is dead and Peter has the snake and skull branded into his skin by the Dark Lord himself.

  


**world on fire**   
_the light has fallen_   
_amongst the living and the dying_   
_..._   
_there's talk of saving souls_   
_still the cold is closing in on us _

_  
_James and Sirius both leave the Auror program in early October. It's obvious that the Ministry is more concerned with its image than with actually saving lives and, besides, they've each got enough of an inheritance to live of off, so it's not like they actually need the jobs. Moody stumps around and yells at the Ministry, but in private he says, "It's about damn time you two quit that joke of a department. I need you more for Order business."

There's not much of an Order left these days, but James agrees with the sentiments all the same. He knows he's a target, that Voldemort might be coming after him and Lily and Harry personally, though Dumbledore won't share where he got the information or why he trusts it, but James can't just sit back while his friends fight and die. So he throws himself into every mission given to him by Moody, but always at the back of his mind are Harry and Lily and the letter he's left on his desk for them if everything goes wrong in the end.

Whenever James sees Dumbledore, which isn't often, what with Dumbledore's commitments at Hogwarts and the Ministry and James's commitments to his family and his missions with the Order, Dumbledore is always talking about saving people and fighting for a better future and loads of other shit that James isn't sure anyone believes in except in an abstract sense. It's nice to talk about a future where blood status doesn't matter, but James lives in the now, where it _does_ matter and he's fighting for his family's right to live in the now, not an uncertain future that might never come. Still, he finds himself hoping for that future and if he holds his squirming son a bit longer than he used to or kisses his wife more, that's all right, too.

He just wishes the Dementor-mists weren't growing thicker with each passing day because they make it hard to hope for anything at all.

  


**the leaving song**   
_as i walked away, heard them say_   
_"poison hearts will never change" _   
_walk away again_   
_turned away in disgrace _

_  
_It's obvious to anyone with eyes that there's a traitor within the Order. It's not someone with Dumbledore's ear because no one truly high up in the pecking order has been targeted any more than usual, but it's definitely someone fairly high up because less than a dozen people knew where the McKinnons were hiding and now they're dead.

Sirius sees the looks people give him at meetings and knows that he's a suspect. He knew about Marlene and her family, he knew about Benjy Fenwick, he's known about everyone who's died in the last few weeks. And he's a Black and blood will out and all that clichéd shit Sirius doesn't think about, but that other people put credence in.

Fuck it all, isn't that the type of thinking they're fighting _against_?

And, God, he's such a hypocrite because he can't help but wonder about Remus's loyalties when he goes off with the werewolves month after month. Moony says he's trying to woo them away from Voldemort and into Dumbledore's camp, but how is Sirius to know if Remus is being truthful? Remus has always been too good at lying and putting on a good show and how the hell can Sirius ever trust a werewolf completely?

How can Sirius ever doubt one of his closest friends?

Sirius visits his brother's grave at the full moon because he was wrong about Reg and there's no where else he has to be since Moony's off running wild with a pack of werewolves who're probably already attacking some innocent family and ripping them limb from limb and eating their flesh and _fuck_, he told himself he wouldn't brood about it and here is he, brooding.

"It's a fucked up world we live in, little brother," Sirius tells the headstone, scratching at the family crest with a rock he'd picked up in the street. It's not the first time he's tried to rid Reg's headstone of their family motto, but Mum was too smart and had it charmed to ward off both regular wear and vandalism. Doesn't mean Sirius will ever stop trying, though. "I've never wanted to be wrong about something as much as I want to be wrong about him. Not even for you."

And because it's dangerous to linger, Sirius drops the rock and walks away, feeling thoroughly mocked by the _Tujour Purs_ that, once again, lives on to spite him.

  


**love vigilantes**   
_you just can't believe the joy i did receive_   
_when i finally got my leave and i was going home_   
_oh, i flew through the sky, my convictions could not lie_   
_for my country i would die, and i will see it soon_

_  
_There's fighting in Liverpool and James is caught up in the thick of it, Sirius at his back, both of them throwing hexes and curses left and right, dodging unfriendly and friendly fire both. James doesn't know what hits him, but he wakes up two days later in his flat in London with a scar on one shoulder and a red-eyed Lily at his side. He can hear Sirius and Harry in the other room and knows that Remus and Peter are probably here, too.

"You can't keep doing this to me," Lily says, her voice cracking just slightly at the end. "You can't keep coming home barely alive. You almost died before Poppy could get here."

"I'm sorry." His voice is hoarse from lack of use and his throat hurts, probably from a combination of spell damage and whatever potions were forced down his throat while he was out of it. "Where are my glasses?"

Lily grabs them off the nightstand and settles them on his face and he smiles a little when Lily finally comes into focus.

"Dumbledore was here yesterday," Lily tells him, poking him in the side. "Budge over, will you?" Then she's on the bed next to him, her head on his uninjured shoulder, arm around his waist, leg over his. "He came to try to convince me to go into hiding again. I told him I'd already made up my mind." She pauses, presses her face to the side of his neck. "I told him we'd do it."

"Lily--"

"Don't, James." She takes a deep breath and James can feel it against his neck when she lets it out. "I am not going to risk Harry growing up without his father if it can be helped. Voldemort wants us, for whatever reason, and I think the safest thing for us would be to go into hiding."

It's quiet between them for a long time. James can still hear Sirius and Harry playing and, yes, there's the quiet voice of Remus, followed by Peter replying. Everyone he loves most in the world, all in one place. He wonders how long it can last, how long _they_ can last.

"Okay," he says eventually, his lips against Lily's hair. "I want Sirius as Secret Keeper."

"Dumbledore thought you would," Lily says, "so I spoke to Sirius. He had a better idea."

James is confused. Who would be a better Secret Keeper than Sirius, who would die before betraying his family?

"Everyone who knows anything about you knows that Sirius is the brother you never had," Lily continues. "Sirius is the obvious choice for Secret Keeper. Too obvious."

And because James knows how Sirius's mind works, he knows where this is going. "He wants to act as a decoy, doesn't he?" Lily nods. "Then who would be the actual Secret Keeper? Remus or Peter?"

"Peter's the last one anyone would suspect," Lily says. "And he can disappear easier than Remus."

_And he's the least likely of the entire Order to be a traitor,_ James thinks. _Unlike Remus_.

"Okay," James says again, feeling like part of his soul is dying with his acquiescence, but agreeing anyway because he would do absolutely anything for his family.

  


**displaced**   
_it's just a simple line_   
_i can still hear it all of the time_   
_..._   
_am i making something worthwhile out of this place?_   
_am i making something worthwhile out of this chase?_   
_i am displaced _

_  
_The Fidelius is performed on the Tuesday before Halloween, which is regular in nearly every way except that it's the last day Lily will be able to leave her house until the danger to her family is past. They could be here a day or a month or a year or even longer and Lily's not sure they'll survive if the war drags on and on as it's been going. James is a man of action; he's never willing sat out of anything in his life. Lily can be still, if she needs to be, but she prefers action over inaction. She knows that going into hiding is the safest course of action for her family, but she can't help but resent Dumbledore for making them do it.

If it wasn't for Harry, Lily's sure that both she and James would be out there, every day, trying to persuade people that Voldemort's propaganda is just that and nothing to be taken seriously, but they do have Harry and despite the fact that Lily loves her son with her entire soul, she wishes they'd waited to have children.

So it's an ordinary Tuesday afternoon that finds Lily standing in the road next to Peter and James, Harry asleep in her arms, staring at an empty plot of land that's not very far at all from the house where James grew up. She knows that she's the only one who can't see the house, since James and Peter built the charm earlier while she finished packing up their flat and she feels like a fool that she wasn't able to help them; she is, after all, out of all the them, the best at Charms.

She thinks again about bringing up the fact that they should have at least told Dumbledore about the change in Secret Keeper, but she knows it's too late now. Once they're done here, she and James and Harry will enter their new home and not leave again until the war is over and Lily knows that Peter's planning on heading to America for the duration, so there'll be no one to tell Dumbledore, since Sirius has been refusing to speak to the Headmaster for weeks now. She has a nagging sense of foreboding that not telling Dumbledore will come back to haunt them, but she tries not to think about it too much. She's never put much stock into Divination anyway.

Lily's brought back to the present by a hacking sound that means Peter's just cleared his throat. "Okay then," he says, his voice grating on Lily's ears. She's always found Peter's voice annoying, and she wishes it wasn't necessary for him to speak right now because she's got a headache already and really doesn't want it to get any worse before she can get a hold of a potion for it. "You all ready?"

"No," James says, the weariness in his voice not surprising Lily in the least, "but that doesn't change the fact that we have to do this, so let's just get it over with, yeah?"

"Yeah," Peter echoes, glancing around, presumably to make sure they're alone. "Yeah. Well, James can already see the house." He turns to look directly at Lily and she has to force herself not to step back, to keep her son out of his reach, like Peter's a threat to Harry.

_Quit being so ridiculous!_ she tells herself. _It's just Peter. You've known him for ten years. He's harmless._

Peter doesn't seem to notice Lily's reaction and just keeps talking. "You'll need to memorize the address because if you forget, you won't be able to get back into the house, should you leave at any point."

"Yes, I know how the charm works," Lily tells him, perhaps a little snappishly, but she's entitled to be snappish, she thinks. It's her life that's getting turned up on its head, after all.

"Er, yes," Peter says, his face turning pink. "Your new house is located at Number Seventeen Nightingale Lane, Godric's Hollow."

Lily silently repeats this to herself a handful of times, and she can't hold back a gasp when a house _melts_ into existence before her very eyes. As houses go, it's not a lot, but as a prison, she's sure it's quite extravagant.

"Thanks, Pete," James says, clapping a hand to Peter's shoulder before placing his hand in the center of Lily's back. "We owe you more than we could ever repay."

Peter nods, but doesn't say anything before Disapparating, leaving Lily and James and Harry alone in the road, staring at their new home.

"I miss everyone already," Lily says.

"Me, too," James say.

  


**2113**   
_in our sleep, there's more to this nightmare_   
_will she beg for your mercy?_   
_..._   
_when the memories occur_   
_of a life you haven't lived_   
_stay still, you will_   
_i've got a secret to hide _

_  
_Peter almost Apparates straight to Little Hangleton from Godric's Hollow, but remembers himself at the last minute and changes his destination to the Wizarding quarter of Edinburgh. The Dark Lord has told him time after time after time not to come straight to him after leaving the Order. It's too easy to track Apparation. Peter knows this, but he tends to forget in his haste.

He takes a public Floo from a pub in Edinburgh to Hogsmeade and then Apparates to Knockturn Alley, which is followed by another Floo trip, this time to Glasgow, and only then does he let himself Apparate to Little Hangleton.

The graveyard is as creepy as it always is, even in the sunlight. Peter hates how the bare trees look like skeletal fingers reaching for the sky, how the dead leaves crack under his feet with every step he takes towards the house on the hill, announcing his presence to anyone within earshot.

There's no one waiting for him at the door, but he feels the tingle of protective magic and recognition spells creep down his spine as he steps over the threshold. It leaves him feeling soiled, but he supposes he should get used to it. After all, he got himself into this whole mess and there's no way of getting out alive (killed like Sirius's brother if he tries to leave, killed by those he's betrayed if he's found out), so he really should buck up and quit being such a girl about it.

The study at the top of the stairs is dark, but Peter doesn't dare go any further into the house than that. The Dark Lord has forbidden most of his followers from even entering the house and Peter's been forbidden, under pain of death (which he's sure will be carried out if he doesn't listen) that he's to go nowhere in the house but the study at the top of the stairs.

Peter's at a loss of what to do; the Dark Lord's never not been here when Peter's had news to deliver. Should he wait here in the dark like an idiot? Leave a note? _My Lord, so sorry I missed you earlier. I would have stayed, but I got hungry. Oh, and by the way, the Potters are at Number Seven Nightingale Lane, Godric's Hollow. Yours, Peter._

Yeah, that would go over well.

Peter's just decided to leave and come back later when he hears the crack of Apparation from further in the house. "My lord?" he calls, cringing at how shaky his voice sounds. "I've news of the Potters." Peter's eyes are on the floor, so he doesn't see when the Dark Lord enters the room, but he most definitely _feels_ it in the sudden chill that overtakes the room.

"Don't try my patience, Pettigrew." The Dark Lord's voice is smooth and oily and makes Peter feel even dirtier than the protection spells on the house had.

"The Fidelius was completed today." Peter nearly stumbles over his words in his haste to get them out. "And I'm the Secret Keeper."

Peter makes the mistake of looking up and though he doesn't meet the Dark Lord's eyes, he's sure he'll have nightmares about the look of absolute glee on the Dark Lord's face at the news.

"You will tell me where they are hiding, Pettigrew, and I promise you, you will have a place of honor in the new order."

  


**the trapeze swinger**   
_and please remember me at Halloween_   
_making fools of all the neighbors_   
_our faces painted white by midnight _

_  
_There's not much to do while one is in hiding and James finds that he gets bored easily. It used to be that Halloween was his favorite holiday, a night of mischief and mayhem with his mates, but all he can do this year is sit on his couch with an open, but unread, book in his lap while Lily checks on Harry for the eleventh time since she put him down two hours ago.

He hopes Sirius and Remus and Peter are all right. Peter should be in America by now, but Sirius and Remus were both planning on staying in Britain until the bitter end, regardless of whether it's safe for them or not. He wonders if he'll ever see them again.

Lily flops down on the couch next to him, laying her head on his shoulder. "Something's going to happen tonight, James," she tells him. "I can feel it. And I know I've always said Divination is a bunch of shit, and it is, but that doesn't change this feeling I've got that something's going to go horribly wrong for someone tonight."

James tosses his book onto the seat of the armchair next to the couch and wraps both his arms around Lily, pulling her onto his lap. He doesn't say anything because there's nothing he can say that isn't trite, so he just holds Lily and lets her hold him. They sit like that for a long time, the fire burning in the grate, the popping of logs the only noise in the room.

After a while, Lily stirs and says, "I'm going to check on Harry again." She's halfway across the room when the front door is blown off its hinges. James lurches to his feet, his wand already out, knowing, just _knowing_ that it's Voldemort himself about to come through the door.

"Lily, take Harry and go!" James shouts, putting his body between the door and his wife. "It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!"

And James knows he'll never see his wife or son again, but he won't let this monster near them. The last thing he'll ever do is protect his family. The words are on his lips as soon as Voldemort steps through the door. "Avada--"

"Expelliarmus." With a lazy flick of his wand, Voldemort quite handily disarms James, whose wand go flying across the room. "Don't you know, boy, that you have to mean the Unforgiveables. Avada Kedavra."

The curse as it's flying through the air is the same shade of green as Lily's eyes.

  


**in the winter garden**   
_silence becomes your wail_   
_and like crystal teardrops shed_   
_a white veil will shround your bed_

_  
_The old Potter house has been empty since James's parents passed away just after Harry was born, so Sirius doesn't light any lamps after Apparating in. He needs to maintain the illusion that the house is empty, since he's sure it's under surveillance by the Death Eaters. Probably the Order, too, if he thinks about it. He shouldn't even be here, but with Unforgiveables flying everywhere, it was the first safe place he could think of to go. Seems the symbolism of Halloween hasn't been wasted on the Death Eaters, who've been determined to wreak as much havoc tonight as possible.

Sirius doesn't know about the rest of the Order, but he's been run ragged trying to keep up, to keep people safe from Voldemort's followers. Tonight's just been one big game of catch up and he's tired of always fighting, of never seeming to make a difference. He's just plain _tired_. He knows he can only stay here for a few minutes, but all he needs is a few minutes alone in a relatively safe environment to regroup before finding Moody and doing whatever the old Auror needs him to do.

The explosion takes him completely by surprise.

He's ducking under the dining table and has his wand out before he realizes that he's safe, that whatever's happened was outside the house and probably not at all related to him. He's up and out the door before he can think, sparing himself the fear that comes along with though, getting his bike from the shed where it's been stowed these past few months and speeding down the lane towards the edge of town where an unnatural light is gleaming.

The house probably used to have two storeys, but there's not much left. The whole second storey's been blown away, and that's a hell of a strong Reducto to do that, and there are whole chunks of wall missing. The front door's been blown off its hinges and Sirius can see someone's feet and legs in the entry, another victim to the Death Eaters.

He just means to verify that the poor sod's dead and not just immobilized, but the glasses that have obviously fallen from this man's face to the floor near his knees catch his attention. Black, round, the ear pieces bent. Just like James's.

He's crying even before he sees James's face, eyes open and terrified, not a single mark on him. Dead.

Dead

dead

deaddead_dead_.

"Oh, God." It's not a prayer or a curse or even a sob, but barely even an exhalation of breath. Sirius falls to his knees, pulling James into his arms. He's still warm.

Sirius doesn't know how long he's been there when Hagrid lumbers in, great fat tears rolling down his face. Neither says anything and Hagrid moves further into the house. Probably going to find Lily and Harry, Sirius thinks.

Oh, God, not them, too.

When Hagrid comes back, the bundle of blankets in his arms is squirming and babbling and _thank God_ Harry's still alive. But if Hagrid's got him that means Lily...

"'M so sorry, Sirius," Hagrid says and part of Sirius thinks Hagrid might just drown Harry if he doesn't stop crying.

Sirius lays James back on the ground, gentle as he's never been with James before, closing his eyes with two fingers. When he pushes himself to his feet, he feels decades older than he did when he fell to his knees.

"Give him to me, Hagrid," Sirius says, holding out his arms for Harry. "I'm his godfather."

"Can't," Hagrid tells him. "Dumbledore's orders. Harry's to go to Lily's family."

Sirius drops his head and takes a deep breath to try to calm himself before he hexes Hagrid for something that's not his fault. It's Peter's fault. Peter sold James and Lily and Harry to Voldemort. Peter's the traitor.

"Take my bike then," Sirius tells him, already trying to decide the best way to find Peter and make him pay for every single person he's killed. "I won't be needing it."

  


**concerning the ufo sighting near highland, illinois**   
_when the revenant came down_   
_we couldn't imagine what it was _   
_..._   
_the flashing at night, the sirens grow and grow_   
_oh, history involved itself_   
_mysterious shade that took its form_

  
Peter knows something's gone wrong with the Dark Lord's plan to kill the Potters when the fireworks start. Witches and wizards are bustling down Muggle streets, not even trying to blend in, babbling excitedly among themselves. He gathers enough from overheard conversations to know that the Dark Lord is gone and that James and Lily's son survived against all odds.

Sirius will be coming for him soon. He needs a plan.

He goes to London, tries to blend in with the Muggles, staying away from Wizarding establishments, trying to give himself enough time to figure out what he's going to do if he wants to survive. He's still trying to figure it out when Sirius finds him. He's going to have to improvise.

He hates improvising.

When he looks back on this moment years from now, he'll never be able to remember exactly what he said, what Sirius said in reply, but he will be able to remember the nifty bit of wandwork that got half the street to explode, lose him his robes and a finger, and allow him to transform and disappear into the sewers.

He'll also always remember Sirius's mad laughter as the Auror's cart him off to Azkaban. It's the remembrance of that laughter that will get him through long days spent as a boy's pet, knowing that no one suspects him at all.

  


**the last of days**   
_the world carries on without you_   
_but nothing remains the same_   
_i'll be lost without you_   
_until the last of days _

November passes in a blur of unremembered days. Remus knows he meets with Dumbledore several times, but he can't recall what they've discussed. He's told later that he went to visit Frank and Alice at St. Mungo's, but he can't remember if they recognized him or if he even stepped into their room. He doesn't even remember transforming less than two weeks after his world was abruptly turned on its head. All he has from that full moon are a plethora of new scars and the feeling that, had Dumbledore and Pomfrey not looked after him personally, he would have turned or killed an innocent.

November bleeds unseen into December and Remus's grief is still as strong now as it was when Minerva McGonagall broke him the news a month ago, but the world as a whole seems to have forgotten all about James and Lily and Peter (_and Sirius_, a traitorous part of his mind reminds him) in the wake of Voldemort's defeat. Shop windows are full of gaudy Christmas displays and carols ring out from every street corner. Remus is even caught up in the middle a spontaneous snowball fight on his way home from his poorly paying job as a busboy in a Muggle restaurant.

Once upon a time, Remus wouldn't have hesitated to join in, even with perfect strangers, but these past few years have changed him irrevocably, in ways that he'll probably spend years figuring out. Now, he ducks his head and quickens his step, hurrying towards an empty flat and leftover take-away and his old, dog-earred copy of _Frankenstein_.

This is Remus's life now: cold food, days gone without speaking a meaningful word, and long ago memorized stories. This is all that is waiting for Remus in the future he tries not to think about, long days that will stretch into long weeks, months, years, eventually decades. He's not even twenty-two; he's got a long life ahead of him still, even with the lycanthropy.

So Remus eats his days-old curry and drinks weak tea and reads about a monster of someone else's making, feeling as if maybe Shelley had somehow known what Remus would eventually endure and hoping for a better ending for himself.

  


**the end**

**Author's Note:**

> To download the songs referenced in this fic, please visit [my livejournal](http://tocourtdisaster.livejournal.com/16616.html). Individual downloads and a .zip file are all available there.


End file.
